


Translation

by bonibaru



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dragons, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 04:19:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10689621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonibaru/pseuds/bonibaru
Summary: Originally written in 2004Harry and Charlie have been growing closer; will a dangerous mission to Tibet bring them together at last?





	Translation

_...This is his practice  
and his prayer: to be translated into air, as air  
with each breath enters lungs,  
then blood._

Don McKay, Icarus

 

It was an irritating thorn in Harry's side: six months of experience under his belt, and still he was only ranked as a junior dragon keeper. While many of the native Romanian squad members knew him by reputation, the War was long over and most of the major battles had been fought elsewhere. His exploits were more a matter of legend than of truth to the people he broke bread with every day. In a way, he was glad the other members of the team didn't treat him any differently than they would have treated any other new dragon specialist, but deep down it bothered him that his position didn't match his skills.  
  
So when the team leader, Constantin Barescu, called them all together one morning and told them that they were going to Tibet to help with a rogue dragon, Harry was disappointed but not surprised to see that all of the juniors - including him - had been left off of the traveling roster.  
  
Then, just two days before the scheduled departure, two seniors were seriously injured in a surprise earthquake while salvaging an abandoned clutch of Hungarian Horntail eggs. That opened up two spaces on the Tibetan mission, and after several hours of Harry's subtle hinting and then not-so-subtle begging, Barescu had finally relented.  
  
"He's on your head," the Romanian said to Charlie, who had come with Harry for moral support. The grizzled captain poked the redhead in the chest with a knobby forefinger. "He'll fly in your wing. You keep him in line and out of trouble."  
  
"I'm glad you're coming," Charlie said to him as they left Barescu's office. "It will be a nice change of scenery for you."  
  
It was a subtle dig, and Harry knew it, but didn't reply.  
  
Charlie had thrown himself into Harry's education for the last half-year: tutoring him in his studies, taking extra flying practice with him, teaching him the defensive maneuvers of dragon work that were so different from Quidditch moves. The two men were almost always together. But despite their close relationship, only once in all that time had they discussed the past.  
  
That night, Harry had walked into Charlie's quarters for a study session and found him snoring on the couch, head dangling over the edge of the lopsided cushions, an empty bottle of firewhiskey on the table and an owl post clutched in his fingers. It was from Neville, telling Charlie that Ginny had been asking for him. _Will you come?_ Neville had written, childlike handwriting scrawled across the crumpled parchment.  
  
As he read, Harry realized with a chill what the next day was: the third anniversary of the "Battle of the Burrow", as the history texts called it. The day that Voldemort's followers had wiped out the entire Weasley family - except for Charlie, who had been recruiting for Dumbledore in Romania, and Ginny, who they had taken prisoner and tortured to the point of insanity in a futile attempt to lure Harry to them.  
  
The history texts didn't mention that Harry had been halfway out the door on his way to get her back when Remus' stunning spell hit him. They'd kept him immobilized, locked in Sirius' old room until what was left of Ginny had been found on the front steps of the ruined Ministry building. He hadn't gone back to 12 Grimmauld Place any more after that, and he still regretted not speaking to Remus again when he still had the chance. _But we won_ , Harry remembered dismally as he looked at Charlie's prone form. _We won anyway, for all the good it did us._  
  
Leaving the letter where it fell, Harry appropriated a second bottle of whiskey from the kitchen cupboard and set out to drink a toast to each and every person that he'd lost, starting with his parents. He'd woken up the next morning on the floor, Charlie looking down at him and prodding him with a toe. Blessedly, Charlie had already brewed a pot of hangover potion and set a mug aside for his unexpected guest.  
  
"Will you go?" was all Harry could ask when his head had finally stopped pounding.  
  
"I should," Charlie replied, staring forlornly at his mug. "Will you come with me?"  
  
But Harry couldn't bring himself to say yes. The move to Romania at Charlie's invitation had separated Harry from the location of his most painful memories, but it had not taken those memories away, nor had it provided him with any closure. The longer he stayed in Romania and threw himself into his work, the deeper the memories became buried in his mind. Harry wanted it to stay that way.  
  
For several weeks after Charlie returned from England the silences between them were more awkward than they had been, but things were starting to get back to normal, and Harry hoped that the trip to Tibet would help bring them closer together again.  
  
***  
  
The rising sun peeking low over the mountains behind him made Harry's shadow look abnormally long and narrow, he noticed as he tied a long flag of rainbow-hued silk onto his broom handle. Dragons were said to be repelled by silk dyed of five colors, and the flag would help keep him from being eaten, although it wouldn't do anything to prevent roasting should the dragon choose to flame him. But every little bit of protection helped.  
  
The task before them would not be easy: the capture and relocation of a troublemaking _Shen-Lung_ , a powerful Asian breed. Their translator and guide, Yuntao Wong, had debriefed the team on the situation the previous day when they had arrived at the Lhasa Valley plain. He was a friendly man, thin, and slightly balding. He was also one of the region's most prominent dragon experts and would assist them in their mission as well as serving as translator and guide for the duration of their stay.  
  
"Our dragons can affect the weather," Yuntao explained to the team at the debriefing. "The exhalation of a celestial dragon is the breath of life, the _sheng chi_. The breaths of the _Shen-Lung_ become clouds from which rain falls, or sometimes only lightning if the dragon who made them is very angry. The queen that lives here is more than three thousand years old. The people often leave sheep or goats in a certain meadow as tributes for her so that she does not raid the livestock herds for food. In return, she makes rain for them in the dry seasons so the crops do not wither. It is a good relationship, one that has lasted for many hundreds of years."  
  
But now, Harry thought, looking up into the clear blue morning sky, there was trouble. A younger queen dragon had come from the south, newly matured and looking for a prime location to clutch her eggs. The Lhasa Valley was perfect dragon territory: a temperate climate with pastoral grasslands; craggy mountain ranges to the north and south with lots of nice caves for hoarding and hibernating. But the older queen wasn't ready to share her territory or to vacate it. So the two dragons had spent the last month fighting, each queen trying to drive the other out.  
  
It was wreaking havoc for the local residents. Lightning storms had set several homes on fire and brought down trees; flash floods from all of the rain had damaged not only homes, but crops too, and many livestock had drowned. Local temples burned incense by the meter, but the magical beasts were not appeased and continued with dizzying aerial battles on an almost-daily basis. The inhabitants of the region had tried everything they could think of to placate their queen or drive the interloper away but nothing had worked.  
  
Now the Romanian dragon keepers would attempt to magically net the younger queen so she could be relocated to a different area unclaimed by any other mature female dragon. Some of the top dragon relocation experts in the world were on Barescu's team. The _Shen-Lung_ was too valuable a specimen to risk her injury or death by not using the best available wizards for the job.  
  
A sheep had been ritually sacrificed and its blood scattered in the field where they were assembled; bait to lure the hungry queen out, shield magic to blind her to the presence of the waiting wizards. They hoped to get her netted and away before the resident queen awoke and came to see what the ruckus was all about. As Harry tightened the last strap on his flight harness, he saw Charlie raise his fist in the air and pump it three times - the captain's signal for their wing to take flight.  
  
"We must go now," Yuntao said to him at the same time, straddling his own broom. "The wards are broken; the dragon approaches from the east."  
  
Harry mounted and kicked off with the rest of his wing. The shielding spell would keep the _Shen-Lung_ from seeing or scenting them until she was directly in their midst. Enticed by the smell of fresh blood, she was flying straight in, high up in the sky, her inexperience evidenced in such carelessness. Harry knew from his studies that an older dragon would have flown along a less direct path and at a lower altitude to look out for danger, but the young one didn't know any better. All she could think of was to slake her morning hunger.  
  
The capture team fanned out in all directions, planning to encircle the dragon like a globe to prevent her flying over them or folding her wings and drop out of the bottom of their trap. As Harry settled into position, Yuntao sat motionless a short distance off to his left. On his right, Charlie hovered silently, his eyes scanning the sky for signs of the other queen.  
  
When the dragon was in position, the barrier spell was dropped and the wizards in her direct line of sight became visible to her. Startled by their sudden appearance, the dragon immediately back-winged and adjusted her trajectory, but every time she turned and tried to go another way each subsequent wizard in the line would wink into sight until she finally realized that she was completely surrounded.  
  
The dragon hovered in place, looking around in confusion. Harry had not seen a live Asian dragon except for the red Fireball that Charlie's team had brought to Hogwarts for the TriWizard Tournament in his fourth year. This queen was large and beautiful. She had two curving, golden horns and wide paws like a lion's with sharp looking claws on all five toes. On either side of her mouth and under her chin there were long whiskers. Her scales were deep blue, the color of the spring sky, but as he watched she shimmered and seemed to change shade; from the ground it would be difficult to track her position unless she was moving or silhouetted against a cloud. Nestled under her chin was a shining pearl, a powerful vessel of health and prosperity. Even Muggles had legends about the value of dragon pearls. They were a hot commodity on the black market, Harry knew, and for that reason every subspecies of pearl-bearing dragon was heavily protected.  
  
The queen's long body rippled sensuously as she swung her head back and forth, clouds of steam puffing out from her nostrils. The small puffs of vapor joined each other above her head and floated off to make small grey clouds, which in turn gradually joined with each other into larger clouds. Rain would begin falling in the closest village soon, Harry thought, but it would be just a light rain instead of the devastating hard storms that had been plaguing the countryside from the territorial queens' battles.  
  
Then the dragon looked right at Harry. Her head continued to swing slowly, from side to side, in a steady rhythm. Her pearl glowed faintly with an iridescent light. Harry stared back at her, fascinated, as she undulated in a twisting pattern against the blue sky and turned herself round in his direction. The dragon's eyes were a deep, fathomless black and they held him still in their penetrating gaze. He thought he heard someone shouting, but it seemed so far off and distant ...  
  
The thin jet of flame shooting straight at him caught Harry by surprise, but it snapped him out of his trance. Years of dodging Bludgers paid off as he rolled sideways just in time to avoid being fried to a crisp. He cried out as a ribbon of pain and heat sliced across his thigh, his forearm, his cheek. He held on to his broom with all his strength and willed himself not to fall.  
  
_Stupid, stupid_ , he growled at himself. He looked frantically back toward the dragon, wondering if he could dodge another burst of flame in an upside-down position, but she was already turning away, distracted by something else. He managed to spin himself upright again and then Charlie was at his side, fists clenched so tight around his wand and his broom handle that the bones showed yellow through the skin of his knuckles. "Are you all right?" he said urgently.  
  
Harry realized that Charlie had left his position and there was a hole in the net now, small, but enough for the dragon queen to dart through if she saw it. The element of surprise was critical to their strategy; it would not work a second time if she got away now. Harry waved him off with his good arm. "I'm fine, it's nothing, go, go!"  
  
Charlie gave him a searching look, but quickly spun and flew back into place before the queen noticed anything amiss. Her attention was conveniently focused in the opposite direction, where Barescu was waving around a metallic orb that reflected the sunlight. No matter the breed, dragons were almost universally distractible with shiny things, especially gold or other precious metals. Harry knew her instincts were telling her to charge at them and fly free, but the dyed silk flags dangling from each broom kept her pinned in the center of the circle while the glinting object in Barescu's hand focused her attention and turned aggression into curiosity.  
  
Harry took a few deep, steadying breaths and murmured a pain-inhibiting charm, sighing with relief as the tingling crept in and dulled the agony in his skin. He touched the spot on his cheek cautiously but there was no blood; the heat from the burn had neatly cauterized the wound.  
  
To Barescu's left, wing captain Nolotov was giving the signal to begin the final phase of the exercise. The team began to chant in unison, wands out, weaving together the threads of the capture spell. Shimmering strands of magic formed in the air and spiraled out like a spider's web. They snaked toward the dragon, surrounding her in seconds, knotting together until she was completely contained inside a net of magic. The dragon bugled furiously, flailing against her captivity, but the binding held.  
  
A cheer went up from the team. "Well done!" Barescu's magically augmented voice boomed out across the sky. Members of the transport team led by Nolotov swooped into position for the next phase, wands extended; settling into a V formation they turned and flew eastward, pushing the disgruntled young queen before them. By evening she would be released in her new territory and hopefully, there she would stay.  
  
Yuntao flew up beside Harry and extended a hand to grip his shoulder. "We have Healers at the monastery that can tend to your burns, Master Potter," he said calmly, bowing his head. "Please, follow me."  
  
***  
  
Charlie hurried down the narrow corridor, following the silent monk to the Healer's chamber. He cursed himself over and over for not paying more attention. He should have recognized what was happening to Harry, he should have cast a distracting spell quickly and Harry would not have been injured. Charlie knew what dragon fire could do to a person; he had the scars to prove it, and he'd seen others maimed or killed on the job too many times over the years. Sometimes it was carelessness, other times dumb luck. He knew Harry wasn't careless, but he was inexperienced, and Charlie was supposed to be watching out for him. Even if Barescu wasn't going to berate him, Charlie was doing a fine job of it all on his own.  
  
Finally, they entered the Healer's room. Charlie saw Yuntao standing next to Harry, who sat propped up with pillows on a tall bed. Harry was dressed in a soft white robe. The graze on his cheek had already been treated and bandaged, but his arm and leg were more seriously burned. Two more monks, the Healer and his assistant, bustled quietly about making preparations for the healing ritual.  
  
Harry looked over and saw Charlie, and his face lit up with a smile as Charlie walked quickly to his bedside. "How are you feeling?" he asked, ruffling Harry's hair playfully, trying to sound nonchalant.  
  
"I've had better days," Harry admitted. The Healer hummed softly, passing his hands slowly through the air over Harry's injured thigh. "Dragon fire is not like ordinary fire," Yuntao told them. "When dragon fire contacts moisture, it flares and burns. One must use fire, not water, to extinguish the burn of dragon flame." The Healer picked up a large pair of iron tongs and turned to the fireplace, where several long flat rocks lay in among a pile of red-hot embers. He picked up one of the rocks with the tongs and put it on the table next to a strange-smelling woven mat of herbs, then turned to Yuntao with a nod.  
  
"The Healer will now place these conduits on your wounds, Master Potter," Yuntao said. "Your burns will be completely healed by this evening, but you must lie as still as you can during the process. I am afraid there will be some discomfort at first." Harry hissed sharply as the Healer laid the largest of the mats across the burn on his thigh and placed the hot rock on top of it. Charlie's overdeveloped sense of guilt gnawed at him again, but he was irrationally proud to note that Harry did not move or flinch at the pain.  
  
Yuntao pressed his hand over Harry's. "The pain will ease as the sun moves lower in the sky and draws the fire out. I am sorry that we will not be able to prevent scars from forming."  
  
"It's nothing I haven't been through before," Harry muttered through gritted teeth. He caught Charlie's eye as he said it, then flushed and looked away. _He's been through so much in his life_ , Charlie thought. _Almost everyone he ever loved is dead. What can they put him through that compares to all of that?_  
  
"I have a gift for you," Yuntao said to Harry, pulling something out of his pocket and moving his hands over Harry's head. "Long ago it was believed by the non-magical people of this land - you call them Muggles, I think - that glass was made from the _sheng chi_ of a celestial dragon, his breath made solid and imbued with the healing powers of the dragon's pearl. This beaded necklace is made from dragon glass - it is the real thing, solidified _sheng chi_. It is our gift to you in honor of the wounds you have suffered for our protection; its power will help you to heal faster."  
  
Harry touched the smooth round beads as they fell against the hollow of his throat. "Thank you," he said. "I'm honored to receive such a lovely gift." Charlie stared at the clear globes as they lay against the warm skin of Harry's chest. The golden tone of his skin was reflected in the glass. Then he noticed Yuntao looking at him, and quickly looked away.  
  
The Healer's assistant bowed politely and held out a cup of liquid, which Harry took and drank down quickly with only a mild grimace. "Hey, that was much less foul than I expected it to be. I think Madame Pomfrey was holding out on me all those years."  
  
"Let us go now," Yuntao said to Charlie. "He will need to conserve his spirit for healing. The draught he has just consumed will help him rest."  
  
Charlie laughed and squeezed Harry's good arm softly. "Hang in there, champ." Harry put his hand over Charlie's and squeezed back. "Thanks for being here," he said drowsily, his eyes already fluttering closed.  
  
"His life force is very strong," Yuntao said to Charlie as they exited the room together. "He will heal quickly."  
  
Charlie nodded. "I know, but still I can't help worrying."  
  
Yuntao looked at him thoughtfully. "You have great affection for the young man, and he for you," he said quietly. "I assume that you are together?"  
  
"Together?" Charlie stopped walking, surprised. "You mean - you mean like a couple? No. We're close, but not like you mean. Harry's like family to me." He's all I've got left, he thought but didn't say aloud.  
  
Yuntao bowed. "My apologies," he said. "It was intrusive of me to ask."  
  
Later, trying in vain to fall asleep in his hotel room, Charlie thought about what Yuntao had asked. What had made him assume Harry and Charlie were a couple? Had Charlie let his gaze linger on the younger man's face just a little too long? Maybe it had been evident in the way that he had rushed to Harry's side after the dragon attacked. Charlie rolled over and punched his pillow. If a perfect stranger could pick up on his feelings, he would have to be more careful in the future. He wanted to keep his feelings for Harry to himself for many reasons, not the least of which being that he was positive Harry did not feel the same way.  
  
***  
  
"I thought getting people drunk and laughing at their singing was more of a Japanese thing," Charlie said to Harry as Yuntao led them through the doorway of the club. "I didn't know they did it here, too."  
  
Yuntao turned around to answer him. "The Tibetan _Nangma_ is a little different from a traditional _karaoke_ bar, Master Weasley," he explained. "It is more like one of your discotheques. The only singers are those who cannot hold back the song in their hearts. No one will require that you sing."  
  
"Thank goodness for that," Harry laughed, and ducked as Charlie pretended to swing a fist at him.  
  
Harry looked around the club as they followed their escort to a table in the back. There were many young wizards and witches standing around in groups of twos, fours, and even dozens, laughing and drinking. Some had beer, some had what looked like ice water, but everyone had a beverage in hand. Hard rock music pumped through the crowd as they swayed in undulating rhythms under colorful flashing lights, swirling fog, and the ever-present haze of cigarette smoke.  
  
They found an empty booth near the rest of the team and Yuntao went to the bar. As they sat down, the music died away. Looking out at the dance floor, Harry saw a slender young man dressed in Muggle jeans and a black T-shirt climb onto a chair in the midst of the floor. The crowd turned toward him as he began to sing; his amplified voice rang out through the club to the sound of cheering and clapping.  
  
"It is a traditional good-luck wishing song, the _Tashi Delek_ ," Yuntao said when he came back with their drinks and Harry asked what the man was singing. "He sings because the _Shen-Lung_ is happy now and all of the citizens will once again benefit from her protection."  
  
Harry drank his beer quickly - the painful burn healing process had left him parched - and watched as the singer left the stage to a burst of applause. Two women ran forward and presented the young man with long scarves, which brought another cheer from the crowd. Then the music began to play again, and dancing resumed.  
  
As they drank, other members of the team came by their table to congratulate Harry on a successful first mission - and his acquisition of battle scars, a rite of passage for any dragon keeper. Soon Harry noticed that the young women who had given the scarves to the singer were sitting a few tables away, staring at Charlie. One of them turned and met Harry's eyes and then laughed, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder. They were provocatively dressed; many of the young women in the club were wearing modern clothing, but these two had on more traditional silk dresses that were extremely short, form fitting, and left almost nothing to the imagination.  
  
"She's got her eye on you!" Charlie nudged him under the table and grinned.  
  
"No way," he shot back, sipping another beer. "It's your hair she's staring at."  
  
Charlie ran his hand through his fiery locks and batted his eyelashes at Harry. "Do you really think so?"  
  
"They are courtesans," Yuntao said. "There are many of them in Lhasa."  
  
"He means they're prostitutes," Charlie said.  
  
"I know what he means," Harry laughed, kicking Charlie softly in the shin.  
  
Yuntao looked at Charlie for a moment, then turned to Harry thoughtfully. "If you desire companionship, I can arrange it for you," he said.  
  
Harry shook his head quickly. "That won't be, ah, necessary, thank you. Not my type." He glanced over at Charlie and saw that his friend was looking at him strangely. "Er, unless you ..."  
  
"Me? Oh no, no," Charlie said, waving his hand. "Thanks anyway."  
  
Yuntao nodded, his attention caught by something going on at the next table. "If you will excuse me," he said, sliding gracefully out of the booth, "I must attend to some of the other members of your party." With a bow, he disappeared into the smoky air.  
  
Maybe it was the beer, but the way Charlie was looking at him made Harry's stomach squirm in an odd way. Charlie's eyes were as blue as the dragon's scales had been, his long lashes casting delicate shadows on the curve of his freckled cheekbones. Nervously, Harry put his hand on the back of his neck and felt the smooth glass beads of his new necklace rolling against his skin. He played with it idly, tugging it out from under his shirt, trying to think of something to say.  
  
"Not your type?" Charlie said lightly, chasing droplets of condensation down the outside of his beer glass with his index finger. "Harry, I'm surprised. Didn't you date Cho Chang when you were at Hogwarts?"  
  
Harry flushed. "That's not what I meant! I mean I don't really, um, dategirlsanymore," he said in a rush.  
  
Charlie's eyes widened. "Oh," he said softly, "oh."  
  
Harry mentally kicked himself. He should have come out to Charlie before, not like this, in a seedy nightclub with cheap hookers hovering around them. He had been so busy trying to forget the past that he hadn't given enough attention to the present.  
  
"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I should have told you before. I kind of thought you knew, I mean, I always assumed that you would have heard it from Ron or something. There was this thing, with Oliver Wood. It was in the Quibbler … they had photos … I just assumed everyone in the world knew."  
  
"We don't get the Quibbler in Romania," Charlie said. His smile was oddly tight, and Harry's stomach lurched unpleasantly.  
  
"I should go," he said, and started to get up, but Charlie caught his arm.  
  
"No, Harry, no, I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I'm not - I'm just surprised, is all. You see, I don't date girls either."  
  
"Oh," Harry said. He sat back down, closer than he had meant to; their thighs brushed against each other on the vinyl seat. "I didn't know that."  
  
"There's no way you could have known," Charlie said. "I've never been photographed doing it."  
  
Harry's mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water for a moment, but Charlie was grinning at him in a way that reminded him so much of his brother George that it made Harry laugh. The tension between them melted away.  
  
"Buy you another round?" Harry said.  
  
"You're on," Charlie answered. "But be careful. I don't know what they use for hangover potion around here, but if it involves hot rocks and tongs, I'll suffer the headache."  
  
***  
  
It could have been the beer, Harry thought later. Definitely could have been the beer and the pleasant buzz of alcohol that was humming through his veins. Or maybe it was the dancing, the way that Charlie had brushed up against him repeatedly on the floor, eventually too many times to be accidental, his hips swaying in time to the hard thrumming beat of the music. Maybe it was the way Harry had brushed himself against Charlie in return.  
  
It might have been the way the neon lights swirled dizzily around the room and made Charlie's eyes look violet instead of blue, or the way those eyes held his for long moments over their drinks until Harry felt all his nerves twisting in anticipation. No, it was probably the beer which had landed Harry where he was now: pressed up against the brick wall of an alley outside the club, Charlie's lips burning like fire on his throat.  
  
_This is a really bad idea_ , he thought to himself as his fingers worked furiously at the buttons of Charlie's blue shirt. He slid one hand inside and ran his thumb over Charlie's nipple, feeling it tighten in response. Charlie moaned against his neck and pressed forward with his hips until Harry could feel the hardness of Charlie's cock against his body.  
  
There were people walking by on the street a few feet away, people who could overhear or see them but it was impossible for Harry to care with Charlie's tongue sliding against his. Barescu himself could have come barging down the alleyway, naked and singing _God Save The Queen_ , and Harry wouldn't have noticed.  
  
"Not here," Charlie said suddenly, pulling away. "Not like this." He grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him toward the street. Apparating while drunk was hard enough, Harry knew; attempting it while both drunk and ragingly horny was just asking to get splinched. But it would be a painfully long walk back to their hotel with his trousers so achingly tight.  
  
***  
  
"My place or yours?" Charlie quipped in between kisses as they rode up in the hotel lift. "Roommate," Harry said as the gate opened. "They made me bunk with Morrison because I'm junior, remember?"  
  
"Mine it is, then." But Charlie fumbled with his room key for so long that Harry finally got annoyed and waved an impatient hand in front of the lock. _Alohomora_ , he whispered, and they tumbled inside.  
  
Glasses, necklace, shoes, clothes came off in a chaotic flurry and then Harry was in Charlie's arms, pressed against the warm, solid body of the older man. Charlie's naked chest was broad and muscular, his arms strong and his hands sure as they roved over Harry's body, touching everywhere he could reach. Then hands were replaced by lips and tongue as Charlie trailed nibbling, sucking kisses over Harry's neck and chest.  
  
When Charlie started to drop to his knees, Harry tried to stop him. "No, you don't have to -" Harry tried to say, but Charlie put his hands on Harry's chest and shoved him unexpectedly. Startled, he fell backward onto the bed. Then Charlie was kneeling on the floor between Harry's knees and planting wet kisses along the inside of his thigh, looking up at him seductively from under the fringe of his tousled hair.  
  
"I know I don't have to," he said as Harry wriggled beneath his lips. "I want to. So just lie back, would you, and try to enjoy it."  
  
Then Charlie was licking his straining cock, his tongue sliding from Harry's balls all the way up to the ridged crown and back again repeatedly. When the tight, wet heat of Charlie's mouth finally came all the way down around him, Harry gasped and closed his eyes against the feeling that threatened to overwhelm him too quickly. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like this - correction, he thought, no one had ever touched him quite like this. As Charlie sucked, his fingers swirled through the soft curl of hair at the base of Harry's erection, tugging it gently, lightly scratching the skin underneath with his nails. The added sensation was marvelous.  
  
Little sparks of fire danced behind Harry's eyelids as he writhed against the cool sheets of the bed. He whimpered when Charlie withdrew his mouth, bucked his hips upward when his cock was swallowed whole again. When Charlie hummed with his own pleasure and sucked hard at the same time that he slid his fingers down to dance over the sweet spot behind Harry's balls, Harry came with a shout, exploding hot and hard and deep down Charlie's throat.  
  
Charlie climbed up onto the bed and hovered over him, smothering Harry's face with sticky kisses.  
  
"Harry, are you - have you ever -"  
  
Harry shook his head. He'd never ... never done anything _more_ than what they had just done. His past sexual experiences had been relatively limited. There hadn't been that much time in school, or later, after the fighting broke out in earnest; the few lovers he had taken had all ended up dead or turned to the dark side before things could go very far. He pushed the threatening memories away and focused instead on the way his lips felt fuller under Charlie's as he pulled the redhead in for another kiss.  
  
When they broke apart again, Charlie stroked his cheek. "Would you let me?" he asked.  
  
It was a tantalizing thought, to surrender to another person so completely. It was an issue of trust that Harry had never been able to reconcile with anyother lover, but he trusted Charlie completely. Charlie's hand lay next to him on the pillow. Harry turned his head and sucked in first one finger, then two, in an unspoken acquiescence, running his tongue over the sensitive tips. Charlie closed his eyes and bit his lower lip, which was incredibly hot and made Harry suck harder.  
  
Harry moved to roll over onto his stomach, but Charlie opened his eyes again and shook his head. "I want to see your face," he said, in a voice thick with desire.  
  
Harry shivered with anticipation as Charlie dipped his fingers in and out of Harry's mouth and his hard cock pressed against the curve of Harry's hip. When the fingers were thoroughly wet he withdrew them, making Harry's mouth feel strangely bereft. Then Charlie's hand was between his legs and probing gently.  
  
"You need this," Charlie whispered. Harry gasped and forced himself to relax as first one, then the other finger entered him, working carefully in, preparing the way.  
  
Charlie licked at the side of Harry's neck. "Are you okay?" he asked. When Harry nodded, he flicked his tongue against a soft spot behind Harry's ear. "Are you ready?"  
  
"Yes," Harry said. He heard Charlie whisper what must have been a lubrication spell, and then the older man raised himself up on his elbows and looked straight into Harry's eyes as his cock slid slowly inside.  
  
Harry drew a deep breath and arched into the feeling. It hurt a little, but mostly it was amazing. Charlie kept his eyes on Harry's and settled into a rhythm, pushing his hips forward and pulling back slowly. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do this to you?" he whispered, leaning in close with each forward thrust. "Do you like the way this feels, having me inside you?"  
  
Harry groaned affirmatively as Charlie's damp fingers slid tantalizingly over his nipples. He could feel everything, every ridge, every ripple of the skin of Charlie's cock as it penetrated his willing body. It was a heady sensation, a whole-body thrill, like flying upside down or going too high up where the air was thin.  
  
Charlie slowly got up on his knees and adjusted their position, pulling Harry's legs up over his shoulders. He braced himself on his arms and began to move again, looking down at the place where their bodies were joined. Harry closed his eyes and made an incoherent noise in the back of his throat.  
  
"I want to watch myself sliding in and out of you," Charlie said as he made another long stroke forward. "Does it turn you on as much as it does me? God, you're so tight, you feel incredible ..."  
  
"Oh god," was all Harry could say in reply. " _Oh, god._ " He was growing hard again and he reached a hand down to jerk himself off, but Charlie intercepted it and placed it back on Harry's chest.  
  
"Allow me," he said, reaching for something on the night table. Harry looked and saw that he had picked up the _sheng chi_ necklace. Charlie wrapped it around his right hand, the clear glass beads clinking musically against each other. Then he took hold of Harry's erection and began to stroke up and down in time with his own deep thrusts.  
  
Harry's head spun madly as the smooth beads rolled over his sensitive cock, spinning on the axis of the thread that held them together. Warmth and light flooded through him, spiralling out from his belly and penetrating every nerve ending all the way to his fingertips. He raised his head and looked down, but the unbelievable sensation along with the combined sight of Charlie's hand on him and Charlie's hips moving back and forth between his thighs was too much for him to bear. He threw his head back on the pillow and moaned as they moved together, faster and faster until Harry arched up, cried out and came again all over Charlie's hand.  
  
"Oh _god_ , Harry, _yes_ , just like that," Charlie panted. He thrust harder for a few more seconds, his rhythm far less steady than before, then climaxed.  
  
Harry lay gasping for breath, overwhelmed by the force of his release. Charlie withdrew and lay down beside him, his hands threading through Harry's hair. "You look thoroughly debauched," Charlie said, nuzzling against Harry's sweat-slicked skin.  
  
Then, as Harry tried to gather his wits, "I love you," Charlie whispered. "I love you."  
  
And Harry began to cry.  
  
At first he was aware only of a lump in his throat that he could not swallow and a burning sensation in his eyes, which he realized were tears when he blinked and felt them trickling down his cheeks. The more he tried not to cry, the harder the desire pushed at him, until he finally let go in a burst of great hiccupping sobs that shook him from head to toe. He wrapped his arms as tightly as he could around a startled Charlie as all of the pain that he had worked so hard to bury rose to the surface and the grief that he had been unable to express wrenched itself from his body. Pain flooded through Harry into every corner of his consciousness.  
  
He cried for Oliver, for Ron and Hermione, for Ginny and Luna and Tonks and Remus. He released the tears and cries he had fought back when he had been tortured by Lucius Malfoy after he had killed Draco. He cried for his parents, for Sirius, for everyone and everything he had ever loved and lost. And mostly, he cried for himself.  
  
Charlie sat up and pulled Harry with him, settling him against his broad chest. His calloused hands stroked Harry's hair and he murmured comforting words against Harry's cheek. But after a few minutes Harry's body was trembling, convulsing with sobs that were making him feel like he was being torn apart. "I can't stop," he gulped. "Charlie, I can't stop." His hands opened and closed helplessly against Charlie's shoulders, fighting against the paroxysm of grief that wouldn't let him go.  
  
Charlie looked closely at him and then slapped him hard across the face twice, two stinging blows that made him whimper. The shock of it brought the breath back into his body, and he shook his head as his mind began to clear.  
  
Then Charlie picked Harry up and carried him into the bathroom, conjured the tub full of steaming hot water and bundled him gently into it. Harry shuddered as the heat penetrated muscles knotted from racking sobs. Charlie's hand made slow, soothing circles across his shoulders and gradually he felt himself start to relax.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said a little later, as Charlie toweled him off. "I don't know what happened back there."  
  
"I do," Charlie said quietly. "You needed to let go."  
  
Harry leaned against Charlie as the soft cloth brushed gently over his skin. "It was like it was all a long, bad dream and I've been afraid to go back to sleep. Only now, I can."  
  
Charlie took his hand and held it tightly. "This is no dream; this is as real as it gets." He turned Harry round and looked into his eyes. The emotions written so clearly on his face almost made Harry want to cry again, but not from sorrow this time.  
  
"I love you," Harry said, feeling the truth of it in every cell of his body, drawing it in with every breath.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published at Skyehawke in 2004.  
> This story was a gift to the lovely and talented Thamiris, who asked for some Harry/Charlie with the referenced poetry quote. It turned into a bit more than a drabble, though, and was my first NC17 rated fic. This takes place in the Patterns universe, and is set somewhere in the middle of the end of that short piece. Facts about Chinese dragons and the Lhasa region of Tibet are appropriated from various websites and are adapted to suit my purposes, and should not be taken as anything resembling fact. Yuntao Wong is in fact the name of a real person, but he is in no way an expert on dragons.


End file.
